


if it keeps you by my side

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: “I really can’t believe this.” Dean’s jaw is clenched tight as he follows you down the staircase inside the door of the bunker. “After all the time I’ve known you–”“You’ve known me for 4 months.”“After all the time I’ve known you, you never even gave me one hint–”You stop, causing him to bump into your back with an oomph. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”He huffs. “I’ve never been dramatic about anything in my entire life.” He smirks. “See? That’s dramatic. This– this is a betrayal.”





	if it keeps you by my side

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Annie’s](http://sixtysevenandwhiskey.tumblr.com) 300 Follower Grand Budapest Motel Challenge! My prompt is featured in bold.

“I really can’t believe this.” Dean’s jaw is clenched tight as he follows you down the staircase inside the door of the bunker. “After all the time I’ve known you–”

“You’ve known me for 4 months.”

“After _all the time_ I’ve known you, you never even gave me one hint–”

You stop, causing him to bump into your back with an _oomph_. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

He huffs. “I’ve never been dramatic about anything in my entire life.” He smirks. “See? That’s dramatic. _This_ – this is a betrayal.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re annoying.” You head to the kitchen, dumping your bag at the foot of one of the chairs, immediately searching the fridge for something to eat.

You hear Dean pull out a chair and sit down, his long limbs stretching out. He winces a bit - that hunt took a lot out of the both of you. A simple salt and burn, but the semi-winter air still lingering made the gravedigging part a lot harder than it usually was.

You grab some stuff to make a sandwich and turn around, setting everything on the counter. “You want one?”

He shrugs, finger tracing mindless patterns on the tabletop.

“Are you– are you _pouting_?”

He glares. “Don’t mock me.”

“If this isn’t the stupidest–”

“What’s stupid?” Sam interrupts, walking into the room with a robe wrapped tight around him, hair a mess and sniffling. “I’m still sick. Don’t touch me.”

“Your brother is stupid.” You reply, making room for Sam as he gathers what he needs to make some tea. “I can make that for you, you know.”

“I got it.” He sets the kettle on the stove. “Why is Dean stupid? I mean besides the normal reasons.”

Dean huffs loudly. “What is this? Did you two plan this?”

You put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ sandwich or not? I’m not your mother; I’m not going to sit here all day and try to make you feel better. I’m hungry and I’m tired, and I need a shower.”

Dean blinks. “I’m fine, thanks.”

You roll your eyes. “Great. See you after I sleep for a few days.” You take your sandwich with you and head down the hallway to the bedrooms, daydreaming about the water pressure you’re about to experience.

You can’t help but snort to yourself as you remember Dean’s face in the diner you ate in last night when you revealed your big secret to him.

_“What do you mean you don’t want any?”_

_You shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. “It’s all yours. I don’t want any.”_

_“This is the best cherry pie I’ve ever eaten. You gotta try it.”_

_You chuckle. “Dude, no offense? It doesn’t matter how good you say it is. I don’t like pie.”_

_The silence was truly amazing. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Dean so quiet. “What?”_

_You set down your mug. “Pie’s not my thing.”_

_“How can you not like_ pie _?” Dean asks, incredulous._

_**“It’s not that I don’t** _ **like _it. I’m physically repulsed.”_**

****_Dean’s mouth drops open. “That’s– you’re–_ how?”

_“It’s the filling. Just– the texture, you know?”_

_“No. No, I do not know.” His face is grim, like you’ve kicked his puppy. “How did I not know this about you?”_

_You laugh, “Jesus, Dean. It’s not like it’s some family secret I was hiding from you!”_

_He mutters something under his breath and goes back to his food, leaving you smirking at him on the other side of the table. This dude and his pie…_

Since then, it’s been non-stop needling you about it.

After your shower, you dress in the comfiest sweats and t-shirts you own, bundling yourself in your duvet. You let out a happy sigh as you get comfortable, and it’s not long before you’re asleep.

After a few hours you wake up, blearily reading your phone as you try to figure out what time it is. You and Dean got back early in the morning, so it’s late afternoon now, and all you want to do is roll over and go back to sleep. Your stomach keeps growling, though, so with a groan, you heave yourself out of bed and look for your slippers before heading to the kitchen.

Dean’s there, whistling, when you turn the corner.

“Have you slept at all?” You ask, rubbing your eyes.

He waves a hand dismissively, “A few hours.” He looks sheepish. “Give or take.”

“Dean–”

“I know, I know.” He turns around, putting a plate in front of you. “Eat this.”

You gape at him. “Are you– have you been _baking_?”

He looks insulted. “I can bake, okay. It’s my damn kitchen.” Before you can laugh, he barrels on, “I made this pie because I got to thinking - maybe you’ve just never had good pie before, you know? That’s why you don’t like it.”

You groan, hitting your head on the tabletop. “Please tell me I’m dreaming and we’re not really talking about this _again_.”

He sits down next to you, shoulder brushing yours, “Just– look. I can forgive this one fault in your DNA–”

“Hey!”

“– But I just think you should try again. For science.”

You turn to face him fully. “Why is this bothering you so much?” You frown. “And I mean _really_ , not whatever bullshit excuse you’re going to give me.”

He stares at you for a prolonged minute before he looks back down at the plate. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

.

Later that night, you go out with Sam and Dean. The three of you don’t go out often anymore, but tonight all you wanted to do was finally let go a little bit and relax.

A few beers and some hunting stories in, and you’re so happy you decided not to stay home tonight. Sam and Dean both have flushed cheeks as they keep drinking, and almost permanent smiles on their faces.

It’s not often they get to smile like that.

Sam goes to get more beers for the three of you, and you watch, amused, as Dean leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

“You look like you’re having a good time.” You say, leaning your elbows on the table.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Because earlier you got mad at me about _pie_ –”

He waves you off. “Okay, okay. I might have overreacted–”

“You _might_ have?!”

“Can I tell you something?” He asks, leaning in. “First, I’m drunk.”

You snort. “No shit.”

He grins. “Second…” His eyes darken just a bit, just enough for you to take notice. “I like you. So much.” Your heart rate picks up as he keeps talking, “You’re so– you’re so perfect, so I really can’t believe that someone like you doesn’t like pie. It doesn’t make any sense.”

You have to tell yourself three times that he’s drunk, and probably doesn’t mean it, and definitely won’t remember any of this tomorrow. You lean in with a smile until you’re only inches apart, reaching out to pat his cheek lightly. “Aw, Dean. You’re sweet. But I still don’t like pie.”

He turns his head towards your palm, but before your heart can beat right out of your chest at what he might do next, Sam comes back to the table, oblivious of the tension in the air.

“This is definitely what I needed to start feeling better.” He says, passing around the beers. “Good idea, Dean.”

Dean is still looking at you, a contemplative look on his face. “Yeah. Sure, Sammy.” He mumbles.

The three of you are quiet on the way back to the Bunker, Sam driving as Dean has clearly had enough - he’s asleep in the backseat. In the garage, you wake him up, shaking his shoulder lightly. “Sleepyhead. We’re home.”

When he opens his eyes, his gaze zeroes in on you as a small smile grows on his face. “‘M not even tired.”

“Sure you’re not.” You reach for him, pulling him upright and trying to stay on your feet as he practically leans on you, almost dead weight.

By the time you get him to his room, he’s almost asleep again. “Wait, wait,” he says as you help him open the door and try to turn away to head down the hall to your room, “I want you to know - I meant what I said. And I’m not going to forget I said it.”

You just smile sadly at him, because no matter how much you want to believe it, he’s drunk and you can’t let your heart hope. “Okay, Dean.”

“Go eat some of that pie I made.”

“Not in a million years.”

He snorts and turns away, whispering a goodnight to you as he shuts the door behind him.

.

.

Dean’s sitting with his head down on the kitchen table when you come in the next morning.

“Morning, sunshine.”

He grunts, and points at his coffee mug that’s still steaming.

“What - did someone have a little too much fun last night?”

He lifts his head slowly, glaring. “Why. Why did you two let me drink so much?”

“Oh, honey.” You shake your head, searching the cupboards for your favorite mug. “There was no stopping you.”

You pour yourself a coffee and begin doctoring it with cream and sugar, and you can practically feel his gaze drilling holes into you.

“Did I–” He stops for a second, looking confused, “Did I say something to you last night?”

You freeze momentarily, hoping he doesn’t notice. “You said several things to me during the hours we were together Dean, yes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Smart ass. No, I mean– did we– did _I_ –”

You turn around, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “All you did was confess your undying love for me, Dean.”

He actually pales. “Oh, fuck.”

You grin. “It’s okay, Dean. I totally understand. I mean, I’m pretty irresistible. Although you told me I have a major character flaw, so I guess we’re just destined to be star-crossed lovers.”

He puts his head back on the table. “Please kill me.”

You snicker before coming to the table to sit across from him. Reaching out, you ruffle his hair playfully.

“I’m going to go jump off a cliff now. See you never.” He says, getting up and heading for the door.

You catch his wrist as he goes by. “Hang on.” You stand, stepping up close to him before you can talk yourself out of it. You push up on your toes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He’s too surprised to even react, but you find you don’t really care. “I know we’ll never work out because of how much I hate pie, but–”

“Shut up about the pie,” he growls, leaning down to kiss you again, harder. His hand cups your face, tilting your face upwards so he can take control, stealing the breath from your lungs entirely.

“You started it, you know.” You croak when he pulls away, and this time when he rolls his eyes it’s fond, and he’s _so close_ you can see every single freckle dotting his face.

“I suppose I can forgive this one thing. Though I still think I can change your mind.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugs, leaning down to kiss you again, tasting like the coffee he had for breakfast, and just a bit like the cherry pie you bet he had a slice of for breakfast.

You don’t totally hate it.

_So you can give me this whole life_  
_With you standing by my side  
_ _‘Cause I know I got what I need and I won’t let it go no, no_


End file.
